Razor Burn
by UnfathomableFandoms
Summary: Hygiene is number one rule on the Ghost, other than "no one is left behind". Sometimes, that means a bad case or razor burn, because puberty sucks.


Ezra stood in the doorway outside of the galley, scowling deeply. He had a collection of small nicks along the lower half of his jaw and cheeks, and was holding a cloth above his lip, which was dotted with was almost impossible to distinguish the twin lightsaber scars.

"I hate you." Ezra pouted, flopping onto the couch dramatically.

Zeb cackled, a disturbing hacking sound not too different from a cough. "Kid, I say you shouldda' grown it out!" he nudged Sabine, who rolled her eyes overtly. Zeb chuckled, slamming a hand on the table and giving the kid a nudge with his fist. Ezra swatted at Zeb's arm angrily, and the Lasat laughed harder.

Kanan stood back, arms folded and shaking his head. He wondered what had possessed the boy. At least, for now, Ezra had taught himself a lesson about borrowing Kanan's straight razor without asking. Perhaps if the kid had asked, Kanan would have told him it wasn't the kind commonly sold today that guarded the skin. It was just a sharpened straight blade. And it didn't help that the kid hadn't even wet his jaw or used shaving gels. No wonder the kid's face was a warzone, a tender mixture of razor burn and shallow cuts. At least he wouldn't be attempting it again without council, and Zeb was certainly helping to make sure the Kid wouldn't forget the lesson any time soon.

The Lasat was both greatly amused, and greatly surprised, that Ezra had even wanted to shave his chin smooth.

Kanan wondered maybe if the oversized Lasat had gotten into his flask again. It wouldn't be the first time. Hera had suggested he should get rid of it. He had sworn off alcohol long ago, and a rebel- or a Jedi- was no good with a hangover. He shuddered to think of what would happen if Ezra got curious.

Kanan blinked. That was a thought to file away for another time.

"C'mon! Kanan and I rock it! Don't you wanna look a tough as we do?" Zeb stroked his beard proudly, and Kanan rolled his eyes. The Kid wasn't even sixteen yet; he doubted he'd be growing much more than the glorified peach fuzz he'd patchily just shaved off for a long time.

Ezra scowled underneath the razor burn and crossed his arms. "Tough?" he spat. "You look like a mangy, overgrown, purple loth-cat!"

Kanan pursed his lips, tucking away a smile. "And what do I look like?" Kanan leaned forward, theatrically rubbing his beard.

Ezra studied him for a second, his scowl softening a little and eyes glinting mischievously. "An Obi-Wan Kenobi wannabe." He said in a matter-of-fact voice. Kanan frowned, but he decided to let him slide on the joke. Even Jedi could banter, right?

Zeb pulled at the pointed tuft on his chin in thought. "Thick facial hair in my culture is highly regarded. It shows everyone how tough and virile you are!"

Kanan was grateful Ezra at least didn't point out that that culture was gone. Zeb, despite his rugged attitude, understood Kanan at least in the way of broken cultures. He didn't ask questions, he just shared the alcohol and let Kanan talk. At least, that was before Ezra joined. Now, Kanan kept the flask as locked away as the memories he used to rant about.

Hera let out a very faint snigger that she politely hid behind her hand, Sabine made a gagging noise. Kanan secretly hoped Ezra was never _virile_. Jedi weren't supposed to be... _active._

"Yeck. Zeb, can you please stop encouraging him?" Sabine demanded, "I'd prefer the Kid with that beard of razor burn, to an actual _beard_ any day."

Ezra sat up, pulling the cloth away from his lip and leaning flirtatiously over the Dejarik table. "So I _do_ have a chance?" Ezra had to return the cloth to his lip before the blood began to bead in the cuts again. Still maintaining the flirtatious smile that was approaching awkward and creepy with each passing moment. The look was completed by his failed shaving attempt.

Sabine rolled her eyes, hiding her blush as she took an indulgent sip from her empty cup. She was a good actor, Kanan would give her that.

Kanan stood. "Well, I doubt I need to say it out loud, but from now on, my razor is _my_ razor. You get your own, or live with peach fuzz. Got it?"  
Ezra nodded absently, avoiding his Master's eye by refolding the blood dotted towel. Zeb chortled under his breath the boy shot him a toxic look. Kanan had his suspicious that the Lasat would not be sleeping undisturbed tonight.

Hera gave Kanan a stern look and he sat down immediately.  
"You will get him his own and then _teach_ him how to use it." she informed him firmly.

"I know how to use it!" Ezra put in, earning another round of gwaffing laughter from Zeb and Chopper, and a pitying look from Sabine.

Hera smiled thinly. "Ezra, hygiene tips may not have been important on the streets, but I want my _Ghost_ and the people on it _clean."_

"Wait-what? I'm not dirty!" Ezra frowned. He took a fresher trip every other day or so.

"Kid, we were surprised you didn't have fleas when you joined. And you _still_ smell like Lothal dust and garbage heaps!" Zeb cackled, his bulbous yellow eyes crossing for a second. He had definitely gotten into Kanan's flask. Kanan reminded himself to throw it out into the fields on their next supply mission.

"Oh that's rich!" Ezra answered tartly. " _You-_ the stinkiest fuzzball in the Galaxy _-_ telling _me,_ that _I_ smell?"

"Oie- That's just my natural, _viral,_ musk." Zeb said, folding his arms unaffected. "Not the smell of pockets filled with rot and trash."

"I do not keep trash in my pockets!"

"Then it must just be you." Zeb shrugged.

Ezra's frown crept down his face impossibly further and he muttered irritably into his chest. "I _never_ picked my food out of the garbage."

Sabine and Zeb looked at him suspiciously.

"Okay _maybe._ Once or twice, but I was starving! It's not like a kid can steal much with the Imps everywhere!" Hera and Kanan shared a quiet, unhappy look.

Zeb broke out in uproarious laughter, but stopped when he realized no one else was laughing with him. "Why'er ya lookin at me!" he demanded loudly. "Ezra's the one with your 'teenage angst' issues!"

Sabine leaned forward, her nose in the air. " _Teenage_ angst? _I_ am not angsty! That's just Ezra."

"Hey-"

Sabine sniffed, her voice growing sharp and Zeb looked a little surprised his usual partner in crime was turning on him. "And you say Ezra smells?" Sabine continued. "Well I say your 'natural _musk'_ smells an awful _lot_ like _rum_. _"_

Ezra pointedly looked away and Hera gave Zeb and narrow, pointed look. The unspoken agreement had always been that liquor consumed on board her bird was acceptable- as long as you could hold it and the youngest of Spectres weren't influenced.

Zeb pushed to his feet and pointing at the crew, narrowed his slightly unfocused eyes. "Oh, I see! You're all ganging up on _me_ now?"

"Not at all. In fact-" Hera answered sweetly. "I think it's time you helped Ezra and Sabine get an early start on the chores."

Both the kids turned to glare at him sharply, and Zeb groaned.

Hera pulled out a data pad from her lap and pushed it into Zeb's hands with a smile and a gentle pat on his shoulder. "I'm sure you will have no trouble helping Sabine and Ezra complete all the tasks on that list before dinner- and listening to their every word."

Zeb shook his head, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

"So he drinks like a fish, and we're getting punished?" Ezra demanded.

Kanan swung a pointed look at his splotchy Padawan. "I remember giving you strict instructions not to go through my things. Tell me where you found my razor again?

Ezra leapt out of his seat, pointedly ignoring the question. "Chores. I love chores. Come on Sabine-"

Sabine stood up and gave Hera a flat look. "I'd like to point out you _are_ punishing me by sending me to work with those two."

Hera folded her arms and stood back on one foot. "You are completely right, Sabine. And would you happen to have any idea where all the ship primer I bought for patching the hull only a few weeks ago has disappeared to? I swear I had more than half a canister left."

Sabine's expression was unmoved, and Hera raised a tattooed brow, waiting for an answer.  
Sabine smoothly slipped her helmet on without even a flicker of change on her face and answered in a level voice, "I have no idea."

Ezra snorted hard beside her, and without looking, Sabine shot out a fist and punched him hard in the arm. The boy winced and immediately went quiet. Zeb clapped him heavily on the shoulder and the boy tried to push him away.

Kanan shook his head wearily, and Hera put her weight to one side and smiled wryly. "That's what I thought."

Sabine turned and snatched the datapad from the Lasat as he battled the boy, and sighing heavily- she pushed between them- effectively breaking up the fight.

"Sabine, wait up." Ezra called out, untangling himself from the Lasat and chasing after the Mandalorian girl, still holding the cloth to his face and talking nonstop to the girls back.

Zeb snorted heavily and shot an accusatory look towards Hera before following the kids and muttering into his chest. "Human puberty is weird."  
Their voices could be heard arguing as they traveled deeper into the ship until they were just shouts and echoes.

"Ugh. I need a drink." Kanan muttered, rubbed his eyes. He was getting a headache.

Hera sat next to Kanan, rubbing his shoulder pityingly. "Hun, I think Zeb drank it all."

Kanan moaned, hiding his head in the crook of Hera's arm.

"You know, I think you should shave too."

Kanan looked up at Hera in shock. "What?"

Hera laughed. "Nothing."

 **(HUGE thank you to Radicalcat for being her awesome, radical self. Review for more Spacefamily trash!**


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